Signs That I Am Not Much Of A Man, Part 3 Of 3 (Unless I Think Of More Before Tomorrow)

I own a few hand tools, and a few power tools, all neatly arranged in the basement, but my skills are extremely limited. I can add the odd shelf in a closet or unplug the garbage disposal, but that’s as handy as I get. I wear gloves working in the yard because I don’t have calluses and I don’t like the dirt under my nails.

I don’t burp the alphabet nor expel gas around other people. I don’t chew tobacco. I don’t chew gum. I don’t chew ice. I chew with my mouth closed. I generally know which fork to use. I know what a ramekin is. I like to cook and love to bake. I mostly keep our kitchen clean, and our toilets, and our floors. I like to iron my own shirts. I like doing laundry, and would do Kelly’s if she let me.

I wear sweater vests because they are warm and I am cold most of the time. I haven’t been outside without wearing a shirt since 1976. I’ve been outside barefoot fewer than 7 times since sixth grade.

I dislike shaving, but dislike facial hair more. I squeeze toothpaste from the bottom, I don’t leave clothes on the bedroom floor, and I always, always, put the toilet seat back down.

I can do 200 pushups, but it takes me 40 days. I don’t watch scary movies, unless you count Pee-wee's Big Adventure as a scary movie.  The last time I arm wrestled, a 14-year-old girl beat me. I have trifocals. I don’t wear contact lenses because I can’t touch my eyes.

Read Part 1.

Read Part 2.